Chains
by Shenaniganary
Summary: "You are like a child." The voice sighs; a dramatic, incredulous sound that rakes his ears and inflames his cheeks with copper fire, "A second to yourself and you blunder into trouble. You're far too old to play savior, dear brother, what ever would your mother say?"


"Tsk, _tsk_, brother. Just _look _at what's become of you."

Soft, sure footsteps thump closer to him across the cracked stone floor. Thor tries to raise his head, to move, to _fight_, but each twitch of movement sparks liquid lightning across his nerves; his body can only shudder and convulse in violent protest. His arms are chained above him, spread-eagle, his muscles taunt and aching at the strain. Old, clotted blood smears his field of vision; the cloying stench of rot and fetid waste choke his nose, stutter his labored breath. How long has he suffered here in this prison? Mere hours? Days?He cannot say, cannot even speak, for his tongue is too thick for movement; his throat too dry with thirst.

Mighty Thor, Aesir of Thunder, Son of Odin, has been brought to his knees.

The footsteps stop before him and he blinks blood-encrusted, watery eyes. The base of his skull begins to throb, each beat a call to war.

_Black._ His wavering mind supplies, thoughts drawn thin, _Only black_.

An inch closer and he could bite. Even now he rebels at his state, at his prison; this brutal indignity. He bares his teeth and parched lips crack open, their thick red-black blood sluggish in its trek down his matted beard to drip from his chin.

Breath sluices back into his chest and with it the bright-sweet _agony_.

Someone brushes his filthy hair from his face. Thor can only groan his gratitude; even this touch ignites hellfire across his battered skin.

"You cannot be left alone for even a moment, can you?" Croons the voice, soft and almost gentle just beyond his reach. He closes his eyes to it, remembers his mother's sweet voice. The quiet evenings at her side; the tales of adventure woven like the finest tapestries with her words. He dreams his head lies on her lap, as her fingers skim through his hair. His brother perched by his side, quiet and content as he only ever was within their mother's chambers.

The touch returns, and with it pain, and his mind comes flooding back.

"You are like a child." The voice sighs; a dramatic, incredulous sound that rakes his ears and inflames his cheeks with copper fire. "A second to yourself and you blunder into trouble. You're far too old to play savior, dear brother, what ever would your mother say?"

Thor bellows, betrayed by temperament and his brother's lack of sight, of comprehending anything but his stupid ideas and the lies he chooses over his kin. His chains screech and strain, his great strength once more brought to bear in one last feat, but they hold fast, their enchantments slithering oil-slick afresh across their corroded surface.

"_Loki_." He spits at last, drawn fast and held as the form before him-his brother, of course it is his brother, it only ever is-chortles with sick delight.

_Brother._ He begs, _If you would only listen! _Yet the words catch fast in his throat; cling like paste to his tongue. Loki will not listen. He never does. He is bound in chains much tighter than these, with magic far more caustic. He does not see what Thor has done, what they all have, for only his sake.

_What has become of you?_

Fingers brush across his akin; skirt his cheekbones, slide down the breadth of his nose. They press to his dry, cracked lips, pausing as his breath shudders out in a quiet, broken exhale. They slip back up his unkempt, bearded cheeks; cradle his head in the breadth of cool palms.

"What am I supposed to do with you? My precious brother, my _dearest _brother. Thor, beloved son of Odin, heir to Asgard's throne. What am I supposed to do?"

And in those words Thor hears his brother; small, and shy and quick. Brilliant even as a babe; his forest-green eyes and snake-sly smile, the darling of their mother. He remembers their first lessons; his frustration and Loki's quiet patience despite his chiding words, how it was only by him that Thor ever memorized those blasted speeches and all for his brother's praise. It was all only for him.

"Come home." Thor groans, imploring and honest as ever, "Loki, just come home."

Loki blinks at him, surprise flickering in the corners of his mouth and the flutter of his gaze; stuttering across his brother's face as if Thor could hide anything from him. He laughs, sudden and low, as if Thor has done some quaint trick, "Do you ever listen? Or is your brain so miniscule, your intelligence so diminished from your battles, that you have forgotten?"

Fingers snatch in his hair, snarl deep in tangled strands and pull tight. His head is drawn back to bare his throat. He cries out at the pain, a helpless, faltering note. "I have no home." Loki breathes against his brother's lips, "Or don't you remember? As I recall you were quite instrumental in its destruction."

Thor growls, his patience worn far too thin, "If you had only listened for once instead of insisting on your imagined slights-"

"Imagined? _Imagined_?" Loki roars, thrusting Thor's head away away, fury in his every movement, "Did I imagine the constant insults against my skill in battle, Thor? For my magework? My very temperament? Did I not have to live in your _shadow_ my entire life as Asgard showered you with every boon it could fathom? Endure your incessant arrogance and stupidity as you flaunted yourself across the Nine Realms?" Loki sneers, his features twisted into grotesque condescension, "I knew your were stupid, Thor, but this is truly appalling."

Thor snarls, his patience worn far too thin. "It is not our fault you cannot see beyond yourself! Do you think we did not try? Did you truly miss all our attempts to have you join us? It was _you_ who refused at each turn, Loki! Only you!"

Loki's fingers find his throat, short nails biting into thin flesh as he forces Thor's head back once more, "No," Loki tells him, savage, "It is you who did this, Thor. Always you."

The grip on his tangled hair tightens until his eyes water, his body caught taut between chains, "And as always, it is you who must be saved. Spoiled boy that you are; always begging for my aid, for my spells, my cunning."

Thor groans dissent and jerks away from his brother's grasp "Loki, please-"

"Please what, brother?" Croons the god, madness dancing bright in his eyes, "Please see reason? Please free you? Please prostrate myself for your peace of mind, restore Asgard to it's former glory, unsullied by unwanted truths?

Loki snarls._ "_Your parents may coddle you and allow you the world, you midgardian companions may think you a god and free of reproach, but you have only ever been an arrogant child, Thor. You have only seen what you _wanted_, never what was, and I will not bow to your selfish preachings for another moment." He sneers, near feral with his own triumph, and Thor stares back into his brother's hateful gaze and wonders what his brother could have found to become to lost.

"I will free you," the chained god vows, "I swear it, brother. I will free you from this."

A single dark brow arches as disbelief, "I'm afraid you've lost your head a bit, Thor." The fist in his hair tightens, "It is not I who will be freed."

Thor grunts, eyes watering for the pain, and cannot fathom it. "Why?"

Loki shrugs, dismissive. "Because I want to. Because you need it." He smiles and it shows teeth, "Because you, of all, must honor your debts."

Soft lips press against his cheek, dry and reverent; a brotherly kiss. Thor does not have the heart to pull away.

"Do not ever forget this, brother. Do not _dare_."

And the chains begin to fall.


End file.
